


For Better Or For Worse

by Lenjamin



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alec Stands Up For The Right Thing, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Arranged Marriage, Catarina is done with Magnus's shit, Lightwood Siblings are Siblings, M/M, Magnus is lowkey an alcoholic, Protective Magnus Bane, and is also a Good Leader, fusion of book and show canon don't @ me, the Clave has questionable morals once again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-28 20:50:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13911978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenjamin/pseuds/Lenjamin
Summary: When the Clave decides to arrange a marriage between a Shadowhunter and a Downworlder, Magnus isn't interested in playing - and who would blame him? Hardly anyone trusts the Clave to do their job anymore. But divine intervention might have other plans. After all, it isn't often one meets a Shadowhunter who actually wants change. And an attractive one, to boot...Alternate universe where the Clave's politics are as sketchy as they've always been, and where Malec is, well, Malec.





	For Better Or For Worse

**Author's Note:**

> A story about this fic: when I first started watching Shadowhunters, I knew absolutely nothing about the universe or its characters, and I assumed the wedding in 1x12 was actually Magnus and Alec's wedding. Imagine my surprise when I watched 1x4 and found out they didn't even know each other! As I imagined what circumstances could possibly lead to their union, this fic came to life. It turned out I had been mistaken all along, but, well, some ideas just never die. I hope you enjoy :)

After Valentine's uprising, the Clave knows it's not in good standing with Downworlders.

Even after Catarina Loss's movement for Downworlder representatives on the Council has been fulfilled, things are shaky—perhaps even shakier than before. The mistrust is still evident among both sides, and Downworlder presence has little effect on the aid the Clave grants them. It's only natural that dissent begins to rise among Downworlder ranks, stronger than before. But once the Clave starts paying attention, it's too late. Anti-Clave sentiment is growing strong within all branches, even the warlocks who share the most symbiotic relationship with Shadowhunters. To its horror, the Clave realizes something more must be done.   
  
It is at this time that the New York Institute, current home of the Lightwoods and Clarissa Fray, has been pushing a Downworlder unity agenda. The younger wards of the Institute have begun to utilize their ties to various New York clans, and their reputation has grown to be one of genuine diplomacy. Even the more disillusioned Downworld leaders cite New York as being a new standard for the Clave.    
  
Said Clave, of course, begins to put two and two together, and contacts Maryse Lightwood.   
  
It's unclear who first suggested the idea. Maybe one of the Downworlder representatives had their eyes on a particular Shadowhunter, or vice versa. Some, of course, are disgusted. But Consul Penhallow sees an opportunity. It has its roots in Shadowhunter tradition, after all. The politics of it aren't unfamiliar.    
  
“And if we can make it natural, or at least seem as true as possible,” she tells the Clave, “it will show that Shadowhunters and Downworlders can be bonded in the most intimate way of all, the one bond Shadowhunters have that is stronger than battle and the bond that all species, human or other, experience.”   
  
Love.    
  
In a manner of speaking.   
  
For the Clave, an arranged marriage means peace. It means support of unity becomes the norm. For Downworlders, it means a powergrab—the chance to marry someone next in line for an institute, the chance to be heard on the Council, the chance to be an equal. And, they can arrange a few more trial runs in institutes around the world with some of the other more diplomatic Enclaves—that way multiple factions can be satisfied. The first trials won't be genuine, and Jia knows this, but she also knows it will pave the way for Shadowhunters who do love Downworlders to come out of the woodworks. It means a step towards real equality, and if equality takes as long as she anticipates, then it will at least be the opportunity Downworlders need. Some may be dangerous, but it is better to keep your enemies close, after all.    
  
In the end, there is only one real choice. As per Clave law, the girl must agree, but she is by far the best candidate.    
  
Isabelle stifles more than enough screams when the Council approaches her, but she steels her resolve. She had always known she wasn't going to find love, after all. Better her than Clary, or Jace, or Alec.    
  
Of course, the rest don't agree.   
  
"Isabelle, you can't throw your life away just because the Clave wants you to," Jace protests.   
  
"I'm not doing it for the Clave. I'm doing it for peace. The Clave knows we have the best reputation among Downworlders, and they want to use it to their advantage. They're right to. If they picked someone who was less diplomatic, it would end in disaster." Better that Simon isn't here. That would make this even more difficult.   
  
"Iz, this is crazy." Alec, patient, loyal Alec, looks like his heart is breaking. Big siblings always look like that. "I know how much peace means to you, to all of us. But that doesn't mean we have to do it the Clave's way. You don't have to listen to Mom. And you know they picked you because you're a girl. They think you'll be easier to control."   
  
"Alec, you can't protect me forever. I get why they came up with this plan. It seems stupid, really stupid, but it'll work. I know why it has to be me. Don't worry, please, none of you," and she tries not to tear up in front of her friends, she really does. She keeps her face as resolute as possible. "I can't stand the thought of you worrying about me. I'll be fine."   
  
The next day, she goes into her mother's office. The Consul and Inquisitor are both present.   
  
"Do you, Isabelle Lightwood, agree of your own free will to offer yourself in marriage to a Downworlder candidate, one whose worthiness you will deem and whose matrimony you will accept?" the Inquisitor inquires. He looks at her in a funny way, almost as if he's uncertain about making such a young girl into a chess piece for the Clave to manipulate. She isn't.    
  
"Yes. I, Isabelle Lightwood—"   
  
The doors burst open, and Alec storms through, Clary and Jace running to catch up. Everyone turns to glance at the black-haired boy, who looks somewhat sheepish about his dramatic entrance but strolls forward with the walk of someone resolute in their decision. "I changed my mind, Izzy. I'm not letting you do this."   
  
"Alec, just leave it alone!"   
  
"Alec, what are you doing? This is important. You of all people should know that." Maryse stares at him with hard obsidian eyes.   
  
"I know. That's why I'm taking her place." Alec looks at Isabelle. "Iz, I know I can't protect you forever. But I can still protect you right now."   
  
"Alec, stop. I told you I would do this." Isabelle isn't sure if she's angry, or frustrated, or relieved, but she suspects it's all of them.    
  
"Your sister made this decision, Alec. You can't simply barge in and undermine her choice."   
  
"Mom, wait. I know the Clave picked Isabelle because she's a member of the New York Institute, and she's a child of the Institute's head. But I fit those requirements too. And you and I both know I've always been better at diplomacy. Izzy's good at, well... she has attractive qualities, but her personality can be abrasive."   
  
"Hey!"   
  
"You know I'm right, Iz. You're a fighter, you always have been. We need her on the battlefield, Mom, Madam Consul, Inquisitor. It's where she's best. Let me be the posterboy. I can handle it. Plus, I'm the older sibling."   
  
"He does make some good points, Maryse," the Inquisitor says. "And if he's willing..."   
  
Maryse sighs, rubbing her temples. "Alec, are you sure about this? It will be difficult. You're taking on a very significant responsibility. I don't want you to rush into this."   
  
"I thought about it all night, Mom. Better me than Isabelle. I'm willing."   
  
Isabelle hadn't noticed, but Jace and Clary have moved over to her. Jace puts a hand on her shoulder, and she turns into his chest.   
  
"He always gives up everything," she whispers. "I knew they could have chosen him, but I didn't want them to. Not this time."   
  
"I know. He's too much of a big brother."   
  


* * *

  
"Did you hear? One of the Lightwood kids is looking to get married. To a Downworlder."   
  
"That's the worst idea I've ever heard. Letting a Shadowhunter marry a Downworlder?"   
  
"Everyone knows it's not genuine. It's just an incentive to get Downworlders to play nice with the Clave and gain some of their favor."   
  
"I'm not sure about the idea of letting a Downworlder have that kind of power. Plus, marrying a Shadowhunter... it just seems distasteful."   
  
"It won't work. Everyone will see right through it. Plus, they can only make one group happy this way."   
  
"Who knows? It's a crapshoot, but maybe they'll pull it off. Shadowhunters and Downworlders getting married. Imagine that."   
  
Alec isn't all that sure what he's gotten himself into, if he's going to be completely honest. But he knows he has a duty, and he made his choice. He can do this.   
  


* * *

  
It's Magnus's own fault, really. This is what he gets for not paying attention. Of course, a conversation about Shadowhunter arranged marriages had sounded horribly boring, but he would have paid more attention if he knew who exactly a Shadowhunter was arranging said marriage with. Oh, god, does he wish he had paid attention.   
  
"What about Magnus?" Maximilian Born, the High Warlock of Queens, smirks at him. Magnus had never really gotten along well with Maximilian, at least not since a certain incident in 1983. He's far too smug for Magnus's liking, anyway. That shithole. "He seems to be pretty cozy with Shadowhunters. If I recall correctly, there was one named... Wes? Willis?"   
  
"His name was Will," Magnus said through gritted teeth, "and he was a friend."   
  
Catarina looks at him sympathetically from across the table, but it's a look that says  _ It's your own fault, really _ .   
  
"He certainly has more contact with them than a lot of warlocks in the city, except maybe Catarina," a warlock named Arabelle Shade shyly interjects. "It's not as if he's in bad standing. That could make him favorable."   
  
Magnus sighs. There was a time that Shadowhunters had sought his help regularly, even those who mistrusted him, but those days were long over. They had ended when Jocelyn Fairchild showed up on his doorstep with an eight-year-old girl and begged him to remove her knowledge of the Shadow world. He knew Jocelyn, had made sure her daughter would grow up a properly baptized Nephilim free of demonic influence, but when Magnus had taken one look into the tiny redhead's eyes he had seen something he hadn't wanted to see. There was confusion, and fear, but there was also something blazing bright and hot and determined, like a fire destined to consume everything in its path. One look at the girl and Magnus saw his own life, spiraling out of control.   
  
"I'm sorry. I'm afraid that type of magic is too complex for me," he had said simply, despite Jocelyn's protests that she knew what he could and couldn't do. "My friend Catarina Loss specializes in healing. I'm sure she's much more suited to tinker around in someone's head." And he had given Jocelyn Catarina's information and shut the door in her face.   
  
He had never felt particularly bad about it, even after the Fairchild daughter and her team of supermodel friends (plus the one awkward mundane) had kept bugging Catarina for favors, inevitably dragging her headlong into the war with Valentine. She had insisted on Magnus's help, and he’d obliged because god knows how much he owes her, but for the most part he had stayed out of it. Change, despite how long he had lived, was not something Magnus was generally a fan of.    
  
Perhaps it was foolish of him to think he could escape it.   
  
"So you're saying you want to use me as a piece of meat to throw to the Clave?" Magnus jabs, giving his best unimpressed eyebrow.   
  
"It's not only playing along with the Clave's little game. It's a chance for an in with the Nephilim. The Clave knows that. That's why they're making the offer," another warlock says. "If we're going to choose someone for this, it needs to be someone we know will speak for all of us."   
  
"Or just someone we'd like to see the Clave put a leash on," Maximilian smirks again.    
  
"Maximilian's right. I think the whole thing is an empty gesture. Everyone knows the Clave isn't really willing to grant us any freedom."   
  
"They're willing to try, at least. They've finally begun to realize their mistakes. This may not be the best opportunity, but it's a peace offering." Catarina finally speaks up.   
  
"Why don't you do it then, Catarina? The Nephilim brats know you well enough."   
  
"No. I have a day job, I don't have the time to play this kind of politics. I'm a healer first, and I'm already the Council representative. This is a different kind of involvement."   
  
"We all have separate lives, Catarina. No one wants to give them up to go cohabit with some stuck-up Shadowhunter just for the slim chance the Clave might grant us some basic respect."   
  
"Okay, everyone be quiet!" Magnus is standing now, head in his hands. This yammering is giving him a headache. "If it will make everyone happy, and get everyone to shut up, I will be the one who pretends to like Shadowhunters long enough to seem like an agreeable candidate for a botched matrimony." After all, he doesn't have to actually marry whichever stupid Nephilim the Clave plans to auction off. He just has to seem like he's interested for a while. There will be plenty of other parties to choose from.   
  
"So we're decided, then?" Catarina says. Everyone nods some form of agreement.    
  
Great. Magnus just needs to pick out his flashiest and hardest-to-look-at suits.   
  


* * *

  
The first time they meet is at an open function, one of the first Clave-sponsored Downworlder-inclusive events that isn't related to politics.   
  
Magnus is wearing a chrome suit and his most glittery eyeliner, and his hair is slicked with an iridescent silver paste. The event may be a black tie, but he isn't going to let anything stop him from flaunting his true style.    
  
The only reason he's here is because the Clave's bait is the star guest. It's a Lightwood, as Magnus found out recently, because of course it is. Yet another reason why this whole thing was a bad idea.    
  
Instead of finding the person of interest and actually introducing himself (Magnus can't remember their gender, let alone their name; it was something like Alan or Elaine, and for some reason he's also thinking Coriander), Magnus nurses his second glass of wine and hovers standoffishly in the corner of the room, bored by the surroundings. Just soft music and chit-chatter; nothing like a real party. He would know.   
  
He's debating going home when he spots a young man shoving his way through the nearby crowd, glancing over his shoulder frantically. Interesting. Magnus downs a sip of wine, only to spit it out and almost drop the glass when a tall gangly figure collides with him. The running boy.   
  
"Oh angel, jeez, I—I'm so sorry." The boy looks mortified, and Magnus would definitely be more annoyed if he hadn't noticed how pretty he is. Taller than a giraffe, and just as awkward, it appears, but well-toned and nicely colored. Messy black hair and smooth hazel eyes. A Nephilim, judging by his word choice, but it's not every day eye candy like this literally runs into you.   
  
Nevertheless, his suit is still stained. Magnus doesn't manage a complete smile, but one that's still charming enough. "Avoiding someone?"   
  
"You could say that, yes. I didn’t realize how handsy some faerie are." The boy looks around again, checking to make sure his pursuer has lost his trail. "Oh, no, your suit—shit, it's stained, I'm so sorry, I—" The boy looks up at Magnus and pauses, like he's surveying him properly for the first time. His expression changes, like he's lost his train of thought. He takes in Magnus's face and doesn't seem to be able to stop staring.   
  
Oh,  _ dear _ . It seems this boy finds Magnus as pretty as Magnus finds him. Not that Magnus minds. The boy's eyes are wide as the sky, soft and distant. Magnus notes the curve of his cheekbones, the gentle curl of breath from his lips. He grins. "Don't worry about it. The name's Magnus Bane."   
  
The boy mirrors his grin, equally wide and definitely enraptured. "I'm Alec. Alec Lightwood."   
  
Magnus has a moment of realization, and the grin fades from his face. This pretty Shadowhunter isn't just anyone. He's the Shadowhunter for sale. "Ah. You're the one getting married, aren't you?" He breaks their gaze, not needing to see the look on the boy's face.   
  
Magnus notices Alec tighten up his posture, conform himself back to professionalism. Become the posterboy he's supposed to be tonight. "Yeah, that's me." Magnus can't tell if he's disappointed or not.    
  
"Hmm. Well, it doesn't seem to be going too well."   
  
"It's not." The boy stares off somewhere else, distress evident in his expression. "It's apparently given everyone here a free pass to be as friendly as they want. Even other Shadowhunters are joining in."   
  
"At least they're interested. I figured most would see right through it." Magnus watches the boy. He doesn't seem to be the type of obedient drone the Clave favors, an atypical choice for something as important as this. And different coming from a Lightwood.   
  
"Me too. I wasn't sure about the idea. I think there are better, more effective ways to get Downworlders to trust the Clave again. Give them more freedom, for one thing. Don't treat them like monsters."   
  
"That's not what most Shadowhunters seem to think."   
  
The boy looks at him, an odd look. "Yeah. You're right, it isn't. Which is a shame." He looks away again. "I should probably move on. More people to talk to." He glances down at Magnus's shirt. "And again, I'm really sorry about your suit."   
  
"Don't worry about it. Nothing a little magic can't fix." Magnus smiles at Alec again, and he shyly smiles back.   
  
"Okay. Well, it was nice to meet you, Mr. Bane." And just like that, the boy disappears.   
  
All in all, a strange night, Magnus thinks. At least he technically made some progress.    
  
Before he leaves, he manages to slip a bottle of wine into his jacket. It's not like the Clave is running low on resources, anyway.   
  
He lays in bed for a bit, thinking. An attractive, considerate Lightwood. How about that.   
  


* * *

  
The next time they meet is at a smaller, more formal gathering at the local institute with some of the heads of New York Downworlder clans. Catarina dragged him along for two reasons: one, to get him more friendly with the Clave, and two, because Magnus hasn't been out of the house since the Clave party, not counting the time he went to the store to buy cat food.   
  
The Institute is stuffy and dark, kind of like a nightclub without the music and if everyone had taken a combination of steroids and Xanax instead of alcohol and ecstasy. Magnus really does not want to be here. All the Shadowhunters keep giving his lime green ensemble weird looks as if they don't understand fashion. He keeps his thoughts about what they can go do to themselves to himself, for Catarina's sake.   
  
He also hasn't had any coffee this morning. God, he is dying for some coffee.   
  
As if on cue, Magnus smells something strong and dark. He looks up and sees the same boy from the Clave party walking his direction, holding a cup of black coffee. Two strong and dark things, then.   
  
"Oh. Hi, Mr. Bane, Madam Loss." Alec gives Magnus a curious look, obviously not expecting to see him here.   
  
Catarina gives the boy a small, if not gentle, smile. "Hello, Mr. Lightwood. I see you've met my friend already."   
  
"Yeah, at the function two weeks ago. We didn't speak for very long, though."   
  
Catarina frowns slightly at Magnus, who avoids her gaze like a professional. "Greetings, Mr. Lightwood. That smells heavenly. Wherever did you get it? And I'm talking about the coffee, of course, not your cologne."   
  
Alec's cheeks turn slightly red. Magnus likes that. "It's, uh, there's a coffee bar. That way." He points.   
  
Magnus smiles. "Excellent. I'll be helping myself. Let me know when the meeting is about to begin, would you?" Magnus glides off without waiting for a reply, ignoring Catarina's glare burning into his back. Pretty boys are fun and all, but Magnus needs a heavy amount of caffeine if he's going to get through this.   
  
He doesn't pay a terrible amount of attention to the discussion—something about vampire/werewolf territorial disputes, which he doesn't really think concerns warlocks, but apparently it's policy that all Downworlder groups be represented.   
  
The institute head, Maryse, is looking increasingly exasperated. "If the two parties can't agree, the Clave may have to seize the land ourselves."   
  
Exactly the kind of thinking Magnus hates from the Clave. Well, if he's here as a representative, he may as well speak his mind. "Pardon me, but isn't that exactly the type of policy that got the Clave in bad favor with Downworlders in the first place?"   
  
Maryse stares him down from across the table. Catarina's definitely going to kill him after this, but it's too late now.   
  
Just when he thinks he's about to be pierced with angry laser beams, Alec Lightwood speaks up. "I have to agree with Mr. Bane, Mom. We're supposed to be overseeing this, not taking charge."   
  
Huh. That was pretty gutsy of Lightwood to say. Especially to his mother. Magnus isn't out of the doghouse yet, though. Maryse turns her harpy stare back on him. "And what would you suggest, Mr. Bane?"   
  
Excellent job, Magnus. "Oh, it's really not my place to interfere. I am a warlock, after all. I have no stake in the dispute."   
  
"Well, everyone is equal here. And since you're so willing to strike down ideas, you must have one of your own. Why don't you share it?"   
  
The Lightwood boy, bless him, swoops in. "Wait, I have an idea. Why don't we try...."   
  
Magnus relaxes and reclines back in his seat, grateful to be out of the spotlight. He notices a few stray glances still going his way, including a pretty dark-haired girl and the light-haired, strong-jawed boy sitting next to her.   
  
After the meeting, Magnus does his best to sidle out of the conference-esque room and avoid any confrontation with testy Shadowhunters. He does, however, spot the Lightwood boy shaking hands with a Clave member. At the very least, Magnus probably owes him one now.   
  
He hovers until Lightwood is done speaking and then pounces. The boy nods at him in acknowledgement, smiling a bit too warmly to be professional. "Hello again, Mr. Bane."   
  
"Oh please, I hate that. Call me Magnus. I... wanted to thank you for helping me out back there."   
  
Lightwood looks slightly bashful. "It's not a problem. I know firsthand how unforgiving my mother can be. But you were right. The Clave needs to learn how to handle things differently or else history is only going to repeat itself."   
  
This boy continues to surprise him, Magnus thinks. Given that he's from one of the oldest and most uptight Shadowhunter families, practically nobility as far as the rest of the Clave is concerned, Magnus has no idea where he could possibly get it from.    
  
"Alec!" A voice calls excitedly from across the room. Magnus sees the dark-haired girl from earlier making her way through the crowd, dragging her brooding blond friend with her. "That was awesome! I can't believe you talked back to Mom like that."   
  
A sister? Interesting. The girl looks curiously at Magnus, smiling brightly. "Is this the guy you told us about earlier? The really hot warlock you met at the party?"   
  
Alec blushes ferociously. "Um... he, uh—this is Magnus Bane. Mr.—Magnus, these are my siblings, Isabelle and Jace."   
  
Isabelle's eyes are bright and mischievous, hair and cheekbones perfectly reflective of Lightwood genetics. Jace, on the other hand, looks like a cross between a whites-only gym ad and the hunky mysterious member of an Aryan boy band. "Adopted sibling," he adds, noting Magnus's confusion.   
  
"Mr. Bane, your outfit is amazing. Did you make it yourself?" Isabelle asks. Magnus decides he likes this girl.   
  
"I did. I'm glad to see someone else around here has good taste. Not even my friend Catarina likes it."   
  
"You're friends with Catarina? Oh, wait! You must be the warlock she was always complaining about who didn't want to help her fight the Uprising."   
  
Magnus suddenly feels slightly uncomfortable, and maybe a little guilty.    
  
"I... admit that was perhaps a bit cowardly of me. I'm used to running away from dangerous things, and I truly believed asking the Clave for assistance was hopeless. Catarina was brave to unite the Downworlders herself."    
  
Even though Magnus had been there, at the end, he had turned a blind eye to much of the conflict in hopes that it would go away on its own. Catarina was the only one to see that it wouldn't.    
  
Perhaps Magnus had just been too used to being afraid of Shadowhunters to take a stand.   
  
"Izzy, don't talk to him like that," Alec says, half diplomat, half older brother.   
  
"It's fine. I should be on my way. But it was nice to meet you." Magnus smiles unconvincingly and pushes his way towards the exit, not really caring that he's leaving Catarina behind.    
  
It stings to remember that even for every Shadowhunter that sees Downworlders as people, there's always more that see them as vermin. And try as they might, sometimes the Shadowhunters that respect Downworlders can't see past that, either.   
  


* * *

  
The third time they meet is completely by accident. Magnus is out at one of his favorite restaurants, a dingy little Ethiopian place with low tables and cushions for seats. He's just placed his order when he sees a tall, familiar drink of water walk in the door. He picks up a menu and hastily tries to hide his face, not wanting to deal with Shadowhunters on his night out, no matter how cute they are. But it's clearly to no avail, as the boy begins making his way towards Magnus's table.   
  
"Mr. B—Magnus, hello. I didn't realize this was a Downworlder establishment." The boy stands above him awkwardly. Magnus remains seated.   
  
"It's not. I can go to normal mundane restaurants, you know."   
  
Alec looks rather mortified. "You're right. I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply—"   
  
"It's fine. Don't worry about it." Magnus smiles lightly. The boy is one of the few Shadowhunters who tries, so perhaps he should appreciate that. "Have a seat."   
  
Alec plops ungracefully into the cushions opposite Magnus. "Thanks. I won't stay for too long. I was supposed to meet Izzy and Jace here, but they're running late so I think we're going to try somewhere else. I want to apologize on their behalf, by the way," he adds. "Or specifically Izzy. She didn't intent to make you feel guilty or anything. I think she thought you were pretty interesting, actually."   
  
"Oh, trust me, she didn't offend at all. I simply had to leave quickly. You understand. I'm a busy man."    
  
"Oh, okay. Well, that's good. On behalf of the Clave, we want to make sure Downworlders feel welcome at our meetings." Alec sends him a friendly smile, hazel eyes bright and wide.   
  
Magnus suddenly remembers that technically, he's supposed to be wooing this boy, who despite everything is still just another piece in the Clave's game to maintain control without having to implement real change. Magnus thinks about what a damn shame that is.   
  
"Well, certainly. But fortunately, I don't think you need to worry about my feelings too much, seeing as I'm theoretically supposed to be winning yours over."   
  
Alec furrows his brow in confusion. "What—Oh." His eyes widen slightly. "The, uh, the marriage thing, you're—?"   
  
"Don't worry, please, I'm not going to try anything. I was picked as a... contender by the rest of the New York warlocks, as none of them wanted to do it themselves. I think they thought it was rather funny. And I have been involved with Shadowhunters in the past."   
  
Alec coughs. "Involved as in...?"   
  
Magnus raises an unforgiving eyebrow. "No, not in that way, though many have speculated." He sighs. "Honestly, I'm trying as best as I can to avoid the whole thing. I just think it's stupid, and designed more for show than as a genuine olive branch. Plus, I don't think warlocks have much to gain from it. I don't think anyone does, really, but I know some vampires who'd be particularly eager to get their hands on a Shadowhunter for reasons other than political. Sorry," he says, noticing Alec's pale expression.    
  
"Yeah. I mean, you're... not wrong. It's been weird this entire time. I feel like a celebrity with only creepy fans." Alec shudders. "But I can handle it. They tried to choose Izzy first, but I didn't want to let her throw her life away. And I mean, I always... I knew that... that marrying for love... probably wasn't an option," he sputters.   
  
Magnus frowns. "Well, I know Shadowhunters are notorious for marrying based on power plays but I would hope you would at least consider your wishes before those of your parents."   
  
Alec doesn't make eye contact. "Well, um, it's not—I mean, never mind. I should go."   
  
Magnus gets it. "Oh. You're gay."   
  
"Don't say it out loud!" Alec hisses, eyes darting rapidly around the room.   
  
"I’m not immune to the dangers, dear boy, but it's nothing to be ashamed of."   
  
"Yes, it is! I mean, it's not, but to us it is!" Alec groans, burying his head in his hands. "I'm sorry. Please, just don't tell anyone. They'll make Izzy get married instead."   
  
God damn it. Magnus is trying really hard not to like or feel bad for Alec Lightwood, but he doesn't think it's working.    
  
"I won't say anything. I know what it's like to be... outed without your permission." The food decides to arrive at that moment, spongy bread topped with steaming mounds of spiced meat and veggies.   
  
"God, that smells good." Alec looks despondently at Magnus's meal. Despite himself, Magnus caves.   
  
"Help yourself, if you like. My treat."   
  
"I really shouldn't. I mean..." Alec checks his phone, then looks at Magnus.   
  
Magnus stares back. Their eyes meet. Alec Lightwood looks frightened, and impossibly young. He seems to lose touch with reality for a moment, drowning himself in Magnus's gaze. Magnus doesn't know how to handle that. "I guess I can stay for a bit."   
  
It vaguely occurs to Magnus that if he wanted, it would be very easy to break this boy's heart.   
  
Alec's phone vibrates. "Oh." He checks it. "That's Izzy. I have to go. See you around, maybe." He stands up quickly, ducking his head as he runs out of the restaurant.   
  
Magnus stares into the porous holes in the injera, which stare back at him. Then, he snaps his fingers, and it wraps itself into a to-go package. He throws enough money on the table to cover his bill and leaves. Somewhere along the way, he's lost his appetite.   
  


* * *

  
Magnus spends most of the next few weeks at home, where he can't run into any doe-eyed Shadowhunters. He barely even glances at the gold-gilded envelope with the Clave's seal on it, until it's three days before the fete and Maximilian Born calls his personal phone.   
  
"How did you get this number?" Magnus says in place of a greeting.   
  
"Hiya, pal. Just called to let you know there's no need for you to attend the Clave's little shindig on Saturday."   
  
Magnus narrows his eyes. "Why?"   
  
"Oh, I'll be taking over your job, that's why. Catarina wasn't very satisfied with your efforts, so I volunteered to step in. She'll be contacting the Clave to have your name taken off the official guest list by tomorrow."   
  
There's no way this is Catarina's doing, unless the Clave is threatening her to look like she has someone putting forth an effort. Everyone plays along with the game no matter what, or else it doesn't seem fair. Or maybe she's just had enough of Magnus's shenanigans. Actually, this probably is Catarina's doing. But Maximilian Born? Really? "I thought you saw this whole thing as a pointless charade. Why are you suddenly interested now?"   
  
"Well, of course it's a charade. But it sure does sound like a good way to one-up the other Downworlders. And you. Besides, have you seen the Lightwood boy? He's a very pretty hunk of meat. I wouldn't mind getting my hands on him."   
  
Magnus resists the urge to throw his phone across the room. He takes a deep breath. He's not going to let Maximilian molest Alec, or get the better of Magnus. "Oh, really? Well, I still have an invitation. How about we make a little wager and whoever wins gets to continue playing along with the charade?"   
  
"Defensive, I see. Alright, you want to bet? The first person to kiss the Lightwood boy is the one who gets to keep his name on the guest list." Magnus can hear Maximilian's smirk through the phone. He wants to throw up a little.   
  
"Deal. And let's make it binding, please."   
  
"Whatever you say." The call ends. Magnus feels the sigil burn hot against his ear, sent through text, no doubt, because Maximilian is a dick.   
  
Magnus doesn't throw his phone, but he does toss it carelessly onto the couch, startling Chairman Meow. He flops facedown into the cushions, still in his silken pajamas. God, he really hates Maximilian Born.   
  
And he doesn't acknowledge it, not fully, but Magnus feels oddly protective of the smart, compassionate, closeted Shadowhunter whose life is being ripped from his own control.   
  


* * *

 

Saturday comes, and Magnus has settled on a dark blue ensemble patterned with small glittery stars, accompanied by his best smokey eye and gallons of hair product. The banquet part is boring, some meaningless drivel about a new agreement reached between the vampire and werewolf clans and the Clave patting themselves on the back for pushing everyone around. Magnus glances halfway across the room, where Maximilian's fiery hair pricks at his eyes. The warlock half-turns towards Magnus, his smirk visible even from far away. Magnus casually fixes his hair—with his middle finger.

  
The speech ends and someone announces that dinner is about to be served, but Magnus doesn't listen to the menu because the dance floor has just opened up and people are starting to move around. He checks; Maximilian has already disappeared. He stands up quickly, beginning to weave his way through the crowd. Where is Alec? He'd been sitting up front with his family earlier, but his seat is now empty.   
  
Magnus winds his way to the drink table, crowded with people pushing each other out of the way to get more punch, or in some cases, blood. He turns to scan the dance floor, but collides with—   
  
"Magnus?" There he is. Alec looks like he's about to turn and run away, probably not wanting to relive their previous encounter. "Oh. Hi. Um—"   
  
"Come here." Magnus grabs Alec's wrist. "I need you to dance with me."   
  
"What—"   
  
"I'll explain later. Please, just follow me." He looks at Alec, who seems nervous but allows himself to relax resignedly.   
  
"Okay. Just make it quick—"   
  
Magnus quickly pulls Alec through the throng of people, right to the middle of the swaying sea of couples. "Here. Hand on my waist." He grabs Alec's hand, intertwining his fingers with the other.   
  
"I know how to dance." Alec places his hand in the correct position. "Shouldn't this be the other way around? I'm taller than you."   
  
"Maybe, but whatever. Not important."   
  
"Okay, you need to explain yourself right now."   
  
"Just keep dancing." He snaps his fingers and a glamour appears, rendering them unnoticed. "You haven't seen a warlock with bright red hair and a face like Rumpelstiltskin, have you?"   
  
"No, I haven't. Did you just glamour us?"   
  
"Good. I need you to hold still." Magnus pulls out his phone. "In advance, sorry about this." He looks at Alec, who is staring at him like he has two potentially dangerous heads. His eyes are deep and warm and vulnerable. Magnus closes his eyes and leans forward, placing a gentle kiss on Alec's cheek. He snaps a photo.   
  
"Hang on." He turns away from Alec and looks at the photo. Good enough. He quickly sends it to Maximilian. For good measure, he also adds the heart eyes emoji, the kissy face emoji, and three middle finger emojis, along with "and go back to the shitty borough you came from.” He looks up at Alec.    
  
Alec is staring at him, frozen, his face red all over. "Wh—" he chokes. "Wha—"   
  
"Okay, now I can explain."   
  
"Yes. Please do." Alec looks incredibly flustered, but his anger is starting to bleed through. "Why the photo? What the hell was that?"   
  
Magnus rubs his face. He's feeling incredibly pissed off. "Do you know Maximilian Born, High Warlock of Queens?"   
  
"I know of him. He's kind of a dick."   
  
"Well, there you have it, then." Magnus smiles tightly up at Alec. "He is a dick. And he wanted to both humiliate me and rub his nasty little goblin hands on you. So this is my way of stopping him. Hopefully permanently."   
  
"Um—"   
  
"That sounds like a cheap excuse, I know. We made a deal. He set the terms, because he loves to invade people's boundaries whenever he gets the chance."   
  
"You bet on who could kiss me first?" Alec sounds angry now.   
  
"When you put it that way, yes—"   
  
"Actually, when you put it any way, yes!"   
  
"Alexander, please!"    
  
They both look surprised at the sudden outburst, and of the use of Alec's full name. Magnus certainly is. But he continues.    
  
"Please, just—" Alec starts to speak, and Magnus holds up a finger to shush him. He takes a deep breath. "There are... a lot of people trying to play games with you right now. I am not one of them." He stares into Alec's eyes, hurt and confused and incredibly bright, tragic and alive. "I don't want to hurt you. I think you deserve better than this."   
  
Alec breathes. Magnus is suddenly acutely aware of Alec's hand on his waist, fingers gentle and soft. Of how close their bodies are.    
  
"Why are you being so nice to me?" Alec murmurs. "I'm just another Shadowhunter."   
  
"You're not like any Shadowhunter I've ever met," Magnus says. "Which is a good thing."   
  
The song ends. Magnus blinks, and so does Alec, both landing back in reality. Another song starts, mid-tempo but cheerful.   
  
Magnus smiles playfully at Alec, back to his normal self. "Might I have the privilege of just one dance with the Institute's favorite posterchild?"   
  
Alec grins at him. "Sure."   
  


* * *

  
After Magnus leaves, he checks his phone and finds two new messages from Maximilian.   
  
_ I meant a real kiss. Coward. _   
  
_ But whatever. I suppose you have the moral high ground, or something. _   
  
Magnus replies.  _ Then you should have been more specific with your terms. Sorry. I win. Now leave me alone. And Alexander, too. _   
  
Why Alexander? Alec is a perfectly fine name. He considers for a second.    
  
_ Alexander.  _   
  
There's something about it, but Magnus doesn't know what. The timbre feels different, like it carries more weight. The weight of a thousand expectations, the weight of hiding the truth from everyone. The weight of growing up too fast.   
  
Magnus feels a pang. He sees bright hazel eyes, staring at him like he's the center of the universe. He wants to stare back.   
  
God, what has gotten into him? Somehow, he tripped when he wasn't paying attention. He's falling.   
  


* * *

  
Alec keeps having dreams, and Magnus is always in them. They're mostly innocent, but he wakes up in a cold sweat nonetheless.    
  
Archery practice. Fighting side by side. Holding hands. Once, even a giant ship on what he thinks is the East River. Part of him wishes they would stop, but part of him doesn't.   
  
"I'm not sure what to do."    
  
Jace looks at him, midway through pacing across Alec's bedroom. He honestly doesn't know how much Jace is going to be able to help him with this, but Jace is his parabatai. He would have figured out something was off eventually.   
  
"Me neither." Jace looks troubled. Alec can tell he's thinking—about the wedding, about Alec being gay, about Alec dreaming of a warlock who's a man, about Maryse finding out. "It could just be nothing. You guys keep running into each other in weird circumstances. Of course that's gonna confuse your brain."   
  
"Yeah. But it doesn't matter either way, I guess. Not with everything else going on."   
  
"Why can't you just call the whole wedding thing off?" Jace looks at Alec, sounding pained. He's always been more rebellious than Alec and Izzy put together, failed by the authority figures in his life more times than he can count.    
  
"And have the Clave on my ass? Besides, how do you think that would look to the Downworlder communities? Not even New York's friendliest Shadowhunter dare be in close quarters with someone who has demon blood?"   
  
"That's not what it's about and you know it. Even most of the Downworlders think it's a sham."   
  
"Doesn't matter. It's already got momentum. Now it's just publicity at this point." Alec flops backward onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling. "I don't care. I just want to get it over with."   
  
A handful of Inquisitors show up the next day, along with Consul Penhallow. "We're going to need a shortlist soon," Jia says. "At least one person from each Downworlder group. It doesn't have to be final, but if you're considering a candidate we need to do a few background checks first."   
  
Isn't that defeating the purpose of this whole thing? Alec thinks. Suspicion and watchdogging. Exactly what the Clave needs to stop doing if they ever want to get Downworlders to trust them.   
  
He stares at a blank piece of paper. There's one name that keeps coming to mind, but he pushes it away. Magnus has made it very clear he doesn't want anything to do with this whole ordeal. And soon enough, he might not want anything to do with Alec, either.   
  
Alec scribbles down the names of a few people who've expressed interest, ones who he thinks he could get along with or could provide a diplomatic advantage. He doesn't really know any of them too well, but that's to be expected.   
  
There are no warlocks on the list.   
  
Alec pauses, the tip of his pen poised.   
  


* * *

  
This time, Magnus actually asks Catarina if he can tag along to the meeting she's attending at the Institute. She gives him a weird look, but doesn't argue.   
  
It's not that he wants to see Alec again, necessarily. He just wants to check up on him, make sure he's doing alright. Right? Anyway, it's good for appearances. And it'll make Catarina happy, or at least relatively so.   
  
He strolls in the Institute doors, and lo and behold, there Alec is. He spots Magnus straight away.    
  
"Oh. Hi. Um, can I talk to you for a second?"   
  
Magnus quirks an eyebrow, but follows Alec off to an empty side hall.   
  
"Okay, so, uh..." Alec looks hesitant. "Obviously you don't want anything to do with the whole marriage thing, but... the Clave asked for a shortlist. Of candidates. And I put you on it, because I didn't know any other warlocks. I mean," he says, hurriedly. "Don't think of it as an obligation, or anything, I'm not asking for that. But I just wanted to warn you, because they want to do, like, background checks. Which I think is a bad idea considering everything, but you know them."   
  
Magnus frowns. He doesn't really want the Clave poking around in his personal life, but Alec does look incredibly apologetic. And it's not like he's never been investigated before.   
  
"It was kind of a, um, last resort type of thing if that makes you feel better. Not that I don't like you, I mean, as a person. But they wanted me to put a warlock on the list and I didn't know any other ones I'd be okay with m—uh. That I knew."    
  
Alec does not look happy with what almost slipped out of his mouth. Magnus is grateful that Alec stopped himself, because he's not sure how he would have reacted.   
  
"Don't worry. I understand." He gently touches Alec's arm without realizing it, and withdraws quickly. "I don't think I have anything too bad for them to find, but their definition of bad is different than mine."   
  
"Okay. Well, good. Whatever they do, I hope it doesn't cause too much grief for you."   
  
"Do you want my phone number?"   
  
Alec blinks. "Huh?"   
  
"My phone number. You know, the thing you use to communicate with other people. I figured you might want it, just in case."   
  
"Oh. Well, uh, yeah. Sure. That would be good. For just in case."   
  
Magnus whips out a pen. "Do you need your hand for anything or can I write on it?"   
  
"Well, I have—I mean—yeah, you can write on it." Alec's cheeks look faintly pink. Magnus grabs Alec's hand, can feel how his fingers are calloused from years of training yet somehow still smooth and oh my god Magnus, focus. He calmly scrawls his number on the back of Alec's hand.   
  
"There you are. Just in case." Magnus caps the pen. "Now, the meeting's probably starting soon. We should go."   
  
"Uh—yeah," Alec says, not really sure what just happened. Magnus turns and sidles away, also not really sure what just happened. But he pretends not to care.   
  


* * *

  
Alec stares at his phone. So do Izzy and Jace.   
  
"I say you should just text him. I mean, what's the worst that can happen, right?" says Izzy, on his right.   
  
"So he just gave you his phone number? Out of the blue?" says Jace, to his left.   
  
"Yes. And what would I even say to him?"   
  
"How about 'Hi, this is Alec'," Izzy says, rolling her eyes. "He doesn't have your number, right? So just text him first and see where it goes."   
  
"If it goes anywhere," Jace says, accidentally breathing in his ear.   
  
"Okay, neither of you are helping much, thanks." Alec sighs. He's already saved Magnus's number to his phone, under the name 'Magnus Bane' and not 'Sexy Warlock Man', as Izzy had suggested. He stares at the 'message' option, a round, innocent-looking button. He presses it.   
  
_ Hi, Magnus. This is Alec. _   
  
He isn't really sure what he was expecting. Nothing happens, except the message sitting on his screen in its little bubble.   
  
"He could be busy," Izzy suggests.   
  
The phone vibrates, and a text appears.   
  
"Guess he's not busy," Jace says.   
  
_ Hello, Alexander. Glad to hear I didn't accidentally give you the wrong number. _   
  
Alec might be grinning like an idiot right now. But he doesn't care.   
  


* * *

  
Magnus tries desperately not to feel the way he does whenever Alec texts him, but he fails every time. The messages are infrequent and always small talk, but they're so adorable that Magnus's heart can't help but flutter a bit.   
  
He needs to get a grip, he keeps reminding himself. Wise up and move on. Not get so dizzy over a boy barely entering adulthood, one who has far more responsibility than Magnus could ever imagine. He and Alec can only ever be friends, no matter how flirty Magnus is inclined to be and no matter how much he'd love to ask Alec out for a drink. Just to talk, to get to know him. They've hardly ever spoken properly to one another, but he's the kind of person Magnus  _ wants _  to know more about. Regardless, Magnus informs himself over and over again that can only happen from a distance.   
  
Then, he gets a text from Alec one day, and it isn't one of the normal friendly ones.   
  
_ A squadron of Shadowhunters was on patrol last night. We just found out they killed a werewolf and a warlock kid who was with her. Thought you should know before you heard it somewhere else. _   
  
Magnus doesn't reply. He sets the phone down.   
  


* * *

  
Alec is angry and he makes sure the entire institute knows it. The office doors boom loudly as he forces them out of his way, nearly giving Maryse a heart attack.   
  
"Call Jia. We're changing the terms of the agreement."   
  
"Alec—"   
  
"The second I'm married, I want control of this Institute."   
  
Maryse stands. "You can't just barge in here and demand something like that."   
  
"This was supposed to stop, mom. We are trying to stop Shadowhunters and Downworlders from tearing at each other's throats, and we won't accomplish that if we keep killing innocent people."   
  
"The Shadowhunters on that patrol said they were only defending themselves—"   
  
"Yeah, I know what they said, mom, but I'm not that stupid. And I don't care what their defense is, this is on us and if we don't do anything about it then we deserve any retribution we get from the Downworlders." His voice is raised, but he doesn't care who hears. "Whatever the Clave decides, this still happened. And this whole damn marriage thing is supposed to make a difference, but that's not going to happen if I don't have the power to do that. So you're going to give me control and let  _ me _  handle this, because I'm the one you're using as a human peace offering and I'm the capable one. Not you, not any of the Clave, and not the people under our jurisdiction that just killed a kid in cold blood."   
  
Maryse is white as a sheet, staring at Alec with an expression almost describable as fear. He realizes what he's just said.   
  
"I'm sorry for yelling. And I didn't mean that you weren't capable, because you are. But you know I'm right, Mom. It's time to change things for real around here. Let me take over."   
  
Maryse nods slowly. She's still shocked, but part of her seems almost... proud. "I'll contact Jia."   
  


* * *

  
The worst past is, Magnus knows... well, knew the little warlock girl they killed. She was someone Catarina had been looking after, another infant abandoned at the hospital for having a warlock mark too ugly to overlook. Just a child no older than five, not yet powerful enough to do any damage, much less be lethal. Magnus had met her once or twice, when he'd been to Catarina's house and she wasn't being watched by someone else. The werewolf was a friend of Catarina's, a woman Magnus had never met but Catarina had always talked well of. She'd been taking care of the girl on short notice while Catarina dealt with a patient at the hospital.   
  
Magnus doesn't see or hear from Catarina for a while after it happens, even though he messages her. He assumes she's throwing herself into work, focused on saving the people she can and not the ones she can't. He doesn't blame her.   
  
The Clave or its subsequent institutes are the last thing Magnus wants to deal with right now, but thanks to his position on Alec's shortlist he's been called in for an "interview." He's not sure what stops him from skipping it altogether, though maybe he simply doesn't want to disappoint Alec. Nevertheless, he finds himself seated on a bench outside Maryse's office, waiting impatiently for someone to let him inside, which he hates. He's used to being the one in control, making the demands whenever clients come to call and meeting them when it's convenient for him. Now he's on display for every passing Shadowhunter to see, his position screaming  _ I am vulnerable. Your institution has influence over me. _ _  
_   
It doesn't help that even when they don't give him judgmental looks, Magnus has to wonder if he's seeing some of the people who were on that patrol. He wishes they had some sort of tell, an indicator that would allow him to pick out whether or not they had committed an act of terrible violence, but they all look the same. He's not sure what he was hoping—maybe that one of them would walk past with blood on their hands.   
  
Someone else rounds the corner, but he doesn't pay much attention to who it is until he hears "Hi, Magnus!" Isabelle Lightwood is smiling politely at him, looking gorgeous. "Mind if I sit here?"   
  
"Not at all. I could use some company." He hasn't spoken to Isabelle much at all, seeing as he's only met her once, but if she's Alec's sister she's probably not a horrible human being. Then again, she is a Lightwood. He'll just have to find out.   
  
"Thanks." She sits next to him, crossing one rune-decorated leg over the other. "How are you enjoying this wing of the Institute?"   
  
"I couldn't say. I haven't seen much of it, except this wall. Admittedly, it's a wall with character, but it could use some decoration."   
  
Isabelle smiles at his quip. "I'm sorry my mother is making you wait so long. I can't imagine what kinds of questions her and Jia and the Inquisitor are asking in there."   
  
"Well, whatever they are, I'm sure it's for good reason." Magnus doesn't really believe that, but the truth would probably be inappropriate for the situation.    
  
"I'm not." She sighs. "This whole thing seems so silly now. I can't believe I was prepared to give up everything for it."   
  
Magnus frowns. "Alec told me the Clave chose you first, but I was under the impression he stepped in because you didn't want to do it."   
  
Isabelle shakes her head, smiling bittersweetly. "No. I was about to give myself up when Alec stopped me. I guess I was just so in shock when they asked me that I felt like I had to do it. And he's the oldest, so I wondered why they didn't pick him at first. But then I didn't care. He's always the one sacrificing for our family. Mom and Dad drilled all these things about duty and honor into him, and now I don't think he'd be able to make a selfish choice even if his life depended on it. I just wanted him to live his own life for once. But he saw through me anyway." She looks up at Magnus, her eyes dark and serious. "I wanted to thank you for everything you've done for him. He won't say it, but I know he's under a lot of pressure. You're one of the only people he feels like he can trust right now. And he's been a lot happier since he met you. He's afraid that's all gonna go away once this is over. I think part of him thinks you're just in it for the chase, that all you want from him is power just like everyone else."   
  
Magnus nods solemnly. "I did tell him I was someone who wouldn't play games with him. Now that I think about it, I'm not so certain I've followed through on that promise."    
  
Alec was right, earlier—Magnus had said the marriage meant nothing to him. But Alec put him on the shortlist anyway. After Magnus fought off another warlock just to keep Alec safe. After Magnus had given him his number.    
  
Either way, Magnus realizes, he hasn't been telling the whole truth.   
  
Isabelle places her hand on top of his. "Maybe you can't avoid it, but... I just have one thing to ask. Please don't hurt him."   
  
_ She's right _ , he thinks.  _ I can't avoid it _ .   
  


* * *

  
Three hawk-eyed women stare at Magnus from the other side of a burnished oak desk. A single Alec tries to pretend he's all business, but is too visibly apologetic about Magnus being there. He catches Magnus's gaze and makes a mostly subtle, although definitely pained, 'sorry' face.   
  
"So, Mr. Bane..." Imogen Herondale closes the crisp manila folder sitting on Maryse's desk, bearing his name in bold type across the side. Magnus isn't terribly pleased to know the Clave has an official folder dedicated entirely to him, but he isn't surprised, either. At least it's thick. No doubt packed with all the trouble he's caused them over the past few centuries. Good. Across the front, a small paper with his basic shorthand information reads "Powerful—possibly top NYC. See also CT LOSS". He suppresses a grin, knowing at least they recognize his talent.  _ Take that, Maximilian _ .   
  
He turns his attention back to Imogen, who is scrutinizing him with a haughty expression. "Your credentials seem to be mostly in order. An active warlock, non-threatening, not involved with any hostile organizations. Occasionally takes mundane clients, which does not technically violate the Accords even though it is something the Clave frowns upon. Nevertheless, you have been responsive to Clave calls for aid in the past, especially during your time in London."   
  
Magnus grinds his teeth. He's not a huge fan of the fact that they're treating him like he's a key witness in an FBI investigation, or their implications that some warlocks are apparently terrorists. "I wasn't aware there were any hostile warlock organizations. Madam Inquisitor," he adds, despite the bile in his throat.   
  
Maryse raises a pencil-sharp eyebrow. "We've uncovered them in the past. And we aren't just referring to warlocks, but to any type of antagonistic involvement."   
  
"You mean Downworlder antagonistic involvement."   
  
Alec's eyes narrow. Magnus doesn't look directly at him. He knows Alec is caught between duty and defense, wanting to call out Maryse and the others but grappling with the obligation to silently follow the promise he's made. Maryse's lips are thin and tense.   
  
"I think you forget, Mr. Bane, we are quite aware of Shadowhunters who wish to attack the Accords. As we demonstrated with Valentine, we won't stand for intolerance from any side."   
  
"Of course I haven't forgotten, Maryse. How could I when I have a former Circle member sitting right in front of me?"   
  
Maryse flushes a bright, furious crimson. Imogen looks livid, and Jia immediately stands, ready to defend Maryse. "How dare you—"   
  
"I am sorry you feel the need," Maryse growls, "to bring my past into this, but I am loyal to the Clave and the Clave knows this."   
  
"That doesn't change the fact that despite your awareness of Shadowhunter cruelty towards Downworlders, you still haven't taken any action against the ones who murdered an innocent woman and child," he says sharply. "And do you know what else, Maryse? I’m sure you're already aware that I dislike you personally, because I'm well aware that you feel the same way. Professionally, I've disagreed with your policies more times than I can count, but there aren't many things I could say about that that wouldn't get me put on a watchlist. But even despite all that, your son is still somehow one of the most diplomatic, level-headed, sensible people I've ever known, and I have nothing but respect for him, something I thought would never happen when his mother is a woman who can't let go of the notion that Shadowhunters are the inherently superior species. And frankly, your daughter is equally impressive. I don't know who raised them, but I wouldn't be surprised if I found out it wasn't you."

The sheer shock on everyone’s face is enough to generate lightning. Magnus thinks that, just maybe, he went a little overboard.

Oops.

“You are free to go, Mr. Bane,” Maryse says hoarsely. “Get out of my Institute.”

Magnus stands and, very quickly, leaves.

 

* * *

 

Silence fills the pristine office like ice expanding.

No one speaks, least of all Alec, who feels very much as though he wants to run away and hide forever.

Oh, god. He really should have known better. There’s no way Magnus would have shut up and played fair, not after what happened. And especially not with the way he feels about the Clave, with the way Alec  _ knows _  he feels about the Clave. Stupid,  _ stupid _ . Alec will be lucky if they don’t hang Magnus after this.

He never should have gotten Magnus involved.

But then… Magnus is capable of making his own choices. And he showed up to the meeting anyway, even though he could have left Alec hanging. After all, it wouldn’t have weighed that poorly on Alec if one of his candidates ditched the party. Not with this crowd.

He wasn’t even that mad when Alec told him he was on the shortlist. He just… accepted it. Went with it. Took the consequences.

If Magnus really hadn’t wanted anything to do with this, he could’ve saved his own skin multiple times. He could’ve let Maximilian take over, could’ve skipped out on the meeting, could’ve give Alec the cold shoulder and pushed him out of his life forever. But he didn’t.

Why? Certainly not for the sake of the Clave.

For Alec?

“I won’t allow that man to be a part of this Institute.” Maryse is shaking, with rage or another emotion Alec cannot tell. “He is disqualified.”

What Magnus had said was unfair, and definitely cuts a little too deep for any of the Lightwoods. But Alec has had enough of people making his decisions for him.

“You know what, Mom? No, he’s not.” Alec stands. “We need someone who’s going to stand up to the Clave, not take everything we throw at them. I need an equal. Or are you all too afraid this is going to actually do some good?”

The three matriarchs stare at him, each at a loss for words.

“Jia,” he says, looking her in the eyes. “You know I’m right. What Magnus said was unprofessional, and he has to own up to that. But he respects me. Despite everything the Clave has put him through, he’s willing to try.”

Jia holds his gaze, her own heavy with the weight of indecision. “I hope you’re right, Alec.”

“I am.” He walks, with purpose, to the tall doors. “I can fix this.”  
  


* * *

 

 

Magnus  _ hates _  old buildings, and he  _ hates _  the Institute, and he  _ hates _  whoever designed this terrible, terrible piece of architecture.

The hallways go on forever. There are too many doors and he can’t find the exit. Where is the exit? He should be able to find the stupid exit. He even came in the front door this time instead of using a portal.

He needs a way out before—

“Magnus!”

Alec.

His voice is a relief, and it makes Magnus want to keep running.

“Magnus, please! Wait!”

He turns around. Alec is running towards him, arm outstretched. Magnus couldn’t have outrun him even if he’d tried.

“Alexander.” He smiles shallowly. “I appreciate the escort, but I should really leave before your mother does something rash.”

“Magnus…” Alec seems to have too many words to say. He searches Magnus’s face for something, anything, and Magnus is afraid to show him what he’s looking for. “I changed the terms of the agreement.”

“I… What? How? When?”

“The squadron attack.” Alec’s hands worry. “I get control of the Institute once I marry someone. I get to set policy. I don’t have to wait around and just make suggestions.”

“Alexander, I…”

“I can make real change. I just need a partner. Someone who knows what they’re doing. Someone who’s not afraid to tell the truth.”

He looks at Magnus, and Magnus can  _ feel  _ everything spilling from his gaze—hope, worry, determination. Love. Magnus is drowning and drowning and he needs some place to stand.

“Magnus… will you marry me?”

And all at once, the water overtakes him, and the thing he has feared most all this time rears its head.

He cannot meet Alec’s eyes.

“Often it’s very hard,” he manages, “to create change from within a single Institute.”

He sees Alec crumble, and it hits him like a wave. “But it’s a start! Magnus, we have to start somewhere. I—Someone… someone needs to start somewhere.”

Magnus never asked for any of this. He didn’t ask to be sucked into this never-ending, hopeless game of politics, and he didn’t ask to fall in love with the bravest, most determined Shadowhunter he’s ever known. He didn’t ask for another storm in the neverending ocean of his life. He just wanted to be left alone.

“I’m sorry, Alexander, I—I need to… I have to leave.” And he turns, not looking at Alec at all, and he finally finds the exit.

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus doesn’t want Alec to find him, but he can’t stop going in circles.

Up, past the Hudson. Around, across the seelie bridge in Central Park. Down, back down, closer to the Institute than he should dare.

He thinks absently about his shopping. He thinks about how annoying he finds Manhattan. He could have walked home by now, but he hasn’t. He doesn’t think about that.

By now, he’s starting to think about alcohol.

It is, in fact, what he’s thinking about when he collides with someone.

“I’m so sorry. My apologies,” he says, only vaguely registering the other person but trying to seem apologetic.

“Oh! No, it’s my bad. Don’t worry about it.” It’s a girl, and her hair is long and fiery red. She smiles up at him, warm and welcoming. Her eyes are alive.

He recognizes her. And, all at once, something falls into place.

“Clarissa,” he says.

She looks at him, inquisitively. “Yeah… sorry, have we met?”

“Once, a long time ago. I knew your mother.” Good god, she’s radiant. He smiles at her, despite himself. “In fact, I baptized you, if you’d like to call it that.”

Something clicks. “Oh! You’re Magnus Bane, aren’t you?” She’s buoyant, and her grin warms him to the very core. “And you’re Alec’s friend.”

_ Ah _ . “I know Alexander, yes.”

“He seems to really like you, from what I’ve heard.”

He smiles bitterly. “I’m not so certain that will be the case anymore.”

“Oh. Did something happen?”

“In a sense. It’s a very complicated thing. Lots of feelings involved.” He’s lost, for a moment. “I’m afraid I may have made a mistake."

She’s transfixed upon him, regarding him curiously. “Well, whatever happened... it’s never too late to fix it. You know that, right?”

Her eyes are round, and kind, and he holds them for a moment. They take him back, nearly ten years ago.

There is something in them still, something powerful, but he finds he isn’t afraid. Her gaze gives him the feeling that there’s a wrong he needs to right.

It’s time to do something, for once in his life.

“I do.” He does. “Thank you, Clarissa.”

She smiles. “It’s Clary. I hope you have a good day, Mr. Bane.” And she goes, pulling along with her something that should’ve been set in motion a long time ago.

Magnus does not like to feel afraid. He has spent the centuries of his life trying to avoid feeling afraid. Fear has made him run, and run, and never stop running from his very first days, when fear was all he knew.

Fear, for Magnus, is the shadow of change.

But, logically, that means there has to be a light shining somewhere, doesn’t it?

He calls Alec.

 

* * *

 

 

“Magnus! Listen, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have sprung that on you, and I know that—”

“I need to talk to you. Can we meet?”

Silence, on the other end; Alec, composing himself. “I—Yeah. Where?”

 

* * *

 

 

Alec approaches the park bench, hesitantly. Magnus isn’t looking straight at him; Alec doesn’t blame him.

His hair blows gently in the wind as Alec, eyes fixed on something distant, looking so soft in the watery light. Alec thinks,  _ I’ve caused him a lot of pain since this whole thing began.  _ He hopes, if Magnus can forgive him, that he can spend however long he needs to make it up to him, and he hopes maybe Magnus can overlook how hopelessly in love with him Alec feels.

“Did you know I was almost your Catarina?”

That wasn’t what Alec had been expecting. “What?”

“Your friend Clary tracked Catarina down once her mother went missing, trying to recover her memories of the Shadow World. And lo and behold, Catarina was dragged into every one of your shenanigans. She always did have a soft spot for the girl.” He lifts his head. “But Jocelyn Fairchild came to me first.”

“Magnus…”

“The larger point is, I refused to get involved. I didn’t want anything to do with Shadowhunter affairs, least of all with Valentine Morgenstern’s daughter and her mother.” His face was pensive. “I believed it would keep me safe.”

Alec’s heart twists. “Magnus, I’m sorry. I should have known—”

“Alexander.” His brown, beautiful eyes meet Alec’s. “I was wrong.”

Alec isn’t sure what all this means.

“I think about that day sometimes. What would have happened if I’d let Jocelyn into my home? I suppose I would have dragged my heels whenever Clarissa showed up, a little less each time until I’d finally give in. Perhaps I’d even be in Catarina’s place on the Council.” He smiles, bittersweetly. “And perhaps, by now, I would have truly stood up for something I believe in.”

Alec is suddenly overcome with immense guilt. “Magnus, I don’t want you to feel like I’ve pushed you into anything, and—and if you do, I’m sorry.”

“Alexander.” His hand is on Alec’s, breath sweet and close. “Never apologize for the way you make me feel.”

Alec’s heart is beating at a million miles an hour, ready to fly out of his chest and run away. “I…” His mouth is dry. Magnus’s face is too close, and he’s shaking.

Magnus closes his eyes, but he doesn’t move. He gently grabs Alec’s forearm; a grounding touch. “Who are the other candidates that you’ve chosen?”

“I—They—there’s a couple, it’s just—they’re all—“ He swallows. “I don’t want to get married. I’d rather have it some other way.”

“Think of it as a business contract.” Magnus smiles softly. “After all, nobles did it all the time for political reasons, and a great number of them had… other interests. That was more about producing an heir than anything. But you don’t need to worry about that in this day and age.”

Alec squeezes his eyes shut. This is all too much. He knows, he  _ knows _  that he was always going to have to choose someone else, but—

“So, will we be getting rings or is this a different type of affair?”

He opens his eyes. Magnus is smiling with his whole face, in his eyes the kind of nervousness that is running through Alec’s entire body—but he looks more pleased than Alec thinks he’s ever seen him.

Alec starts laughing, despite himself, desperate and relieving. He throws himself at Magnus, arms wrapping around him tight, and doesn’t want to let go.

“Thank you.”

Magnus squeezes back.

“Don’t thank me yet.”  
  


* * *

To be completely honest, Alec is surprised that everyone is as happy as they are. Especially Isabelle, who tackles him in a tight, sisterly hug only moments after he’s left the podium where all eyes of the Clave were on him, Maryse on one side and Magnus on another.

“Alec!” She’s laughing, or maybe crying; he can’t tell. Either way, joy spills from her expression. “Oh my god, Alec, I can’t believe it.”

Jace is there, too.

“Nice going, brother.” He’s sincere, but there’s a distant soberness in his eyes, and Alec knows what he knows—that this isn’t over, and it won’t be as simple as it seems.

His gaze reflects Jace’s own, but Alec smiles. “Well, I guess we were wrong about you getting married first.”

Jace points at him. “Hey. I’ve still got game.”

“Okay, Jace. I’m sure Clary would agree.”

Jace purses his lips and turns an interesting shade. “Listen—”

“Oh my  _ god _ , you two, stop bickering!” Isabelle is grinning, despite herself. “Let Alec enjoy this while he can.”

Alec hugs his siblings tighter. Across the room, he catches Magnus’s eye.

Alec prays that he can sufficiently say  _ thank you _  with only his eyes. Magnus seems to get the idea.

 

* * *

 

 

Preparations are somewhat rushed, and Alec knows this, but he doesn’t care. The sooner they get it over with, the better. Then maybe the attention will go away.

And he’ll be able to take oversight of the patrol squadron’s trial, which is still pending.

Weeks rush by, most of the days with Magnus at his side, passively approving all the bells and whistles, or at least pretending to. Oddly enough, he seems to care less about the actual ceremony; his focus has been more with the marriage contract itself, which is growing and evolving like a budget bill everyone wants a piece of.

It’s rare that Shadowhunter marriages have written contracts, but this is a unique case. Since Magnus can’t actually bear the runes himself, he’d argued, their exact meanings must be spelled out for him to assure they bear the same weight as they would for any Nephilim.

At this point, Alec really shouldn’t be surprised at how crafty his—future husband?—can be when he wants to.

He’s there at the negotiations, but this is mostly Magnus’s game. Equal legal standing within Shadowhunter society. The right to negotiate with the Council and introduce his own propositions. Even divorce proceedings, which Imogen and Maryse are adamant about—even after Magnus pulls out a proud, most likely fabricated story about advising Henry VIII.

He’s proud of Magnus, and to an extent, he’s proud of himself. They make a good team, and even though Alec catches Magnus with haunted eyes when Magnus thinks no one can see him, he always flashes Alec a warm smile.

Alec doesn’t know if he’s capable of instilling the same calm in Magnus that Magnus does in him, but he’s damned if he doesn’t at least try.

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus is alone the night before the wedding.

His apartment is mostly empty, as he and Alec are expected to live together after the ceremony. Where, he’s not sure yet, but they agreed it would be better on neutral territory. Regardless, he’s not giving up this piece of real estate for anything, politics be damned. Prime Brooklyn penthouses don’t just appear out of nowhere.

Well, maybe this one did, but just a little bit.

He isn’t sleeping, simply resting on his now unfurnished couch with one hand on Chairman Meow, asleep in his lap, and the other hand holding a glass of wine. It’s his third glass, but only in as many hours. He’s rather impressed with himself for that.

He’s going to miss this view. And this apartment. And his old life.

His phone begins to ring, vibrating the cushion beside him. Chairman Meow opens his eyes and hops down from Magnus’s lap, unwilling to tolerate such a disturbance.

He picks it up. It’s Alec.

“Alexander?”

“Magnus.” His voice sounds strained. “Hi. Uh… I think… I’m kind of freaking out right now.”

“What’s wrong?” Magnus stands.

“No… nothing, it’s just… just nerves.” Alec tries to catch his breath. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Okay. I’m coming over.”

Alec laughs sharply. “Ah, you don’t need to. I’m… I might be kind of outside your house.”

“Oh,” he says, and his heart pangs sharply. “I’ll let you in.”

He buzzes the door, waiting for Alec to make the long walk up the stairs. Conscientiously, he puts his glass down, then picks it up again. He drains it at a significantly faster pace than he’d been drinking the rest of the night.

He hears a knock, and realizes at the last second that he’s still wearing his silk bathrobe. Well, at least he’s presentable.

He opens the door. Alec stands in the hallway, looking incredibly guilty and hopelessly frightened.

“Hi. Uh. I’m really sorry—”

“Don’t be.” Without letting him finish, Magnus guides him into the apartment, shutting the door behind him. “Would you like a drink?”

“I—no. Maybe? I mean—”

“What’s your poison?” Magnus says, already having moved to the drinks table. “At the very least, it’ll help your nerves.”

“… It might just be better if I stick with club soda or something.” Alec isn’t really sure where to put himself, and it occurs to Magnus that Alec’s never been here before.

He nods. “Okay. No drinks, no worries.”  _ Wrong _ , says a voice in his head.  _ You’d be losing it if you were sober right now.  _ He pushes it away. “You should have a seat. You look terribly pale.”

“Yeah. I—” Alec’s face turns puzzled, caught on something behind Magnus. “You have a balcony?”

“Any good home does.” Magnus smiles. “Would you care for some fresh air?”

“Yeah.” Driven by curiosity, forgetting to be as distressed, Alec delicately steps through the elegant glass doors, Magnus following.

The air is crisp with night, but not cold. A gentle gust blows across them, lightly ruffling Alec’s hair. He stares at the sky.

“You can see the stars. How is that possible?”

“You’d be surprised to find what magic can do for light pollution. Though, it’s mostly an illusion, as per zoning laws. But I make sure it’s accurate.”

Alec’s eyes reflect the bright canopy, big and full, and Magnus thinks maybe he’s finding some sense of peace in how small everything is.

“It’s beautiful. I don’t get to see them here very often. In Idris I do, but they’re different here.” He seems to come back to reality, weight entering his eyes.

Magnus moves next to him, standing against the balcony railing. “The universe truly is a marvel.”

“Yeah.” Alec looks down, unable to find a place to put his gaze. “Magnus... I’m terrified for tomorrow.”

_ Me too.  _ “It’s only a ceremony, Alexander. It’ll be alright.”

“Yeah, but… it’s… god, it’s a lot. It’s so much responsibility. What if I screw it up? What if I can’t handle it? Everything’s riding on this.”

What would Magnus have done, without Alec? Who would he be? Alec inspires so much in him.

“Listen to me, Alexander.” Magnus grabs Alec’s hand, and he holds tight, and he doesn’t let go. He looks Alec in the eyes, and Alec looks back. “Whatever happens after this, whatever we face, we’ll face it together. I am here for you.”

He reaches up to cup Alec’s face. Alec’s eyes are as big and beautiful as the day they met. “I promise.”

Alec reaches out to him, hands gentle on Magnus’s waist, and Magnus lets go of Alec’s hand to embrace his back.

The kiss is infinite in its tenderness, soft and loving.

“Guess we spoiled the wedding,” Alec murmurs, but he’s smiling.

Magnus smiles, too. “I’ve always thought that kisses can only bring good things.” His hand finds Alec’s hair, feather-soft, and it rests there, holding him close. Their foreheads rest against each other.

They stay like that, still against the ever-turning face of the world.  
  


* * *

 

 

“Magnus, you  _ cannot  _ keep the Clave waiting—” Catarina opens the door angrily as Magnus is adjusting his cuff links, which is really rather rude.

“I’m not keeping them waiting. I still have two minutes. Do you think I should go with silver or gunmetal?”

“You were supposed to be in position eight minutes ago!”

“I wasn’t ready yet. I have to look perfect. I am getting married, you know.” He gives her a pointed look.

“Are you ready now?”

He holds up his cuffs. “Silver or gunmetal?”

“Gunmetal. And that better be it, because there’s no time—”

“Hm…” He looks in the mirror. “Alright, that will do.”

Catarina grabs his wrist, careful not to mess up his suit but, if he’s gauging correctly from her grip, ready to dislocate his arm if that’s what it takes.

Magnus had been fine in the dressing room, which is likely why he’d stayed in there so long, even if he doesn’t exactly admit it to himself. But now, moving through the empty halls of the Institute, his nerves begin to set in.

They stop before the double doors, and Catarina spins him to face her, giving him a once-over. “Okay.” She meets his eyes. “You look good. How do you feel?”

His suit is impeccable gold matched with a black shirt, an ensemble completed by his equally bright eyeshadow and the shimmer of his hair. “I feel fine.”

She knows the truth. “You can do this, Magnus. It’ll be fine.”

“Yes. Absolutely. It’s not like all of Alicante is watching.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” She links her arm in his. “And don’t forget your vows.”

The doors open, and they begin their walk.

They round the corner, and there, waiting at the end, is Alec.

Their eyes meet, and Alec smiles, and Magnus knows he’s smiling back. Izzy and Jace are there too, both stunning in their own right, but it is Alec’s matching shades of gold that send Magnus’s heart spinning.

He knows, even with everyone’s eyes upon him, that he can make it to the end.

Catarina lets go, and he takes Alec’s hand.

“Do you promise, in accordance with Shadowhunter law and the laws of all the realms, to serve each other as equals until death you part?”

And if Magnus wasn’t sure, up until this moment, he is now.

“In sickness and in health.”

“For better or for worse.”

_ To cherish and to love,  _ he thinks, and Alec’s eyes say the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Since several people have asked - this story is complete; however, I don't think I'm entirely done with this universe just yet. I might drop a couple oneshots, but I don't have concrete plans for the near future. If there's something you'd like to see, please let me know in comments! I'd love requests!
> 
> Also, if you like my work, you can follow my Shadowhunters blog @magnalecs or my main @hhawkeyepierce on Tumblr!


End file.
